


Grounded

by feckyeswriting (firelord65)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, Wing Grooming, Winged!Jessika Pava, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/feckyeswriting
Summary: Feeling frustrated after the Battle of Crait, Jessika lets off some steam to an attentive Rey.
Relationships: Jessika Pava/Rey
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24
Collections: Star Wars Multishippers, Wingfic Exchange June 2020





	Grounded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadaras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/gifts).



Being in Black Squadron had been an honor - albeit a small one - when the Resistance had first kicked off. Overall the group was nothing compared to a properly funded fleet, but there still had existed the tiers within those in the starfighter squadrons. Jessika took pride in having been asked to fly with Commander Poe. 

After the clashes at Starkiller and again at Crait, the ranks were thinned to barely manageable. Still with the unwavering leadership of General Leia and the rest of the commanders, there was the stalwart hope that soon they would return to their proper reserves. The help that came from Rey, Finn, and others stepping into any role that was needed of them bolstered morale. But it wasn’t the same as filling in all the gaps left behind by those dearly departed. 

Now there were less direct confrontations and more escapes by the skin of their teeth. Jessika grinned and bore it when she was asked to pilot transports or - _ugh_ \- the Falcon rather than her own means. The seats in the Falcon were designed for humans from Corellia, not those from Dandoran. She had to hang on the edge of the chair to allow enough space for her wings. Even then she would _always_ need to spend an extra twenty minutes minimum afterwards to preen everything back into place. 

But her X-Wing? With it’s properly designed cutouts in the back of her chair and downy soft seatback? That was where Jessika thrived. Another dose of bitterness seared her mouth whenever she received an assignment outside of Black Squadron. 

“You’ll be back in your cockpit soon enough,” Rey told her over dinner. They were perched on fallen logs. Rey hardly ever spoke while there was still something on her plate. It meant that much more for her to have said so. 

Jessika sighed regardless. Her gaze moved upwards again to the grey skies overhead. The humidity was making her feathers heavy with trapped moisture. It was going to rain soon. Maybe within the hour. “It just seems like we’re needed as a squadron less and less,” Jessika replied. 

Rey’s chewing slowed as she thought. When she swallowed, she tipped her head and asked, “Do you really think so?”

Letting out an exasperated grunt, Jessika threw one hand up. She would have gestured with both but then her bowl would have gotten tossed, too. “I don’t know! I get why we’re doing everything. Why we’re skirting along, recuperating and only taking the most careful retaliations, and all that,” Jessika bemoaned. Rey had started to shovel another mouthful in while she spoke. It would be another moment before she could respond again. “But it’s really tough feeling like I’ve been grounded. It just stinks.”

Two last spoonfuls finished off Rey’s oats. She brushed her fingers off, and Jessika saw her grimace as she swallowed hard. “S’rry. I’m trying to be better about that,” Rey said quickly. 

“It’s okay,” Jessika replied. She had asked a few weeks back - why the desperation to clear her plate. The answer had been sad. Just like a hundred other Resistance members’ stories. She had shared her own history with Rey a few days later while the younger girl scarfed down lunch. That was just how things were now. 

Rey cleared her throat. “D’you want to talk about it more?”

Jessika lifted one wing. “Not sure,” she admitted. “Feels like it won’t change anything.”

“Just try. Here. While you do, I gotta fix that clump you’ve got going on. It looks like a cowlick.” Rey hopped up from her log to move next to Jessika. She leaned over briefly to meet her eyes. “If that’s okay?” Rey asked as she held her hand just above the cluster of askew feathers. 

The tips of Jessika’s ears burned. “Sure,” she mumbled into her bowl, turning her own attention to the oats rather than meeting the other girl’s gaze. Jessika wasn’t averse to physical contact by any means. And it was tough sometimes to reach every spot of her feathers, especially when she was tired. 

This just wasn't the first time that Rey had offered to help touch up her wings. With a quick nod - and a bright smile that Jessika could see even in the corner of her eye - Rey began to card her fingers lightly through the feathers on the inside of Jessika’s wing. 

“So. Do you just miss flying your own ship? Or is it about not being with the group? Or just the chair sucking on the Falcon?” Rey questioned. 

Jessika had to force herself to pay attention rather than to simply bask in the sensations. “All together at once, I think,” she replied. When Rey hummed in assent, Jessika took another slow bite of her food. A quiet silence settled lightly between them. In the distance there was the sound of the camp, ever busy with ships coming and going. Jessika put her spoon down.

“I feel off-kilter. It’s not just the little things like the chair -” it had meant a lot that Rey acknowledged that issue, too “- but those, too, all pile up in the back of my mind; and it all just ends up being so… _frustrating_.”

She twisted her head to see Rey’s reaction. Rey was still working on the messy spot of feathers. It already looked better, smoother. Jessika stretched her wing out to spread out the span that Rey was working on. She was rewarded with a soft stroke with the back of Rey’s free hand. It was otherwise difficult to tell if Rey’s concentrated twist of her face was due to the preening at hand or the conversation. 

“It would be easier if your squadron was back as a group,” Rey suggested. 

“Well… yeah. But it’s not about easy,” Jessika said. It was never about being easy. Easy would have been sticking with the Republic Fleet rather than following General’s Leia’s splinter faction. Easy also would have been five planetary explosions in Hosnia. 

“It’s about knowing that regardless of what the marching orders are, I’ve got my place in them. The place that I know best. And that’s not a supply shuttle or - _ugh_ \- a freighter.” 

“Have you talked to Poe about it?” Rey asked. Her touches were deft and sure. She moved on from the clump to the surrounding feathers, gently ushering everything back into place. Right as rain. “Did you hear me?” Rey pressed. 

Clearing her throat, Jessika nodded swiftly. She was getting distracted again. Rey was too good at that. “I haven’t gotten the chance to bring it up with Poe.” 

“If you do, maybe it’ll help. Even if he can’t do anything today or next week, he’d know that’s what you want to be getting back to. Would give you more control.” Rey’s suggestion was a solid one. 

Jessika smiled faintly. “That couldn’t hurt,” she admitted. “Not sure if it’ll work-”

Rey chuckled and shook her head. “Nothings sure fire anymore,” she agreed. 

Jessika moved to cuff the top of Rey’s head with her wing. “If you’d let me finish, I was getting to the point where I said _thank you_. But I can hold off on that if you would rather,” Jessika said. Still, she couldn’t stay mad - even fake mad - for too long. Staying mad meant that Rey would stop doing that nice thing with her hands. Or even stop doing that nice thing where she smiled so brightly it lit up the jungle. 

Thankfully Rey didn’t harbor grudges over something so small. She flicked Jessika in the pinfeathers playfully before returning to card her fingers back through the front of her wing. “Please do. You can say thanks all at once when I’m done with this, too,” Rey teased. 

Lifting her spoon once more, Jessika attacked the remaining cold bits of oats. “I think Poe’s scheduled to be back tomorrow,” she thought aloud. “I can try to flag him down after he reports in. Remind him that fighter pilots belong in starfighters again.”

“I’ll send him your way if I think of it, too,” Rey promised. Jessika leaned forward to stack her bowl inside of Rey’s. Then she settled back on the log, sighing. This time, however, it wasn’t exasperated. 

“You sound less frustrated now.”

Jessika nodded. Her ears burned hot again when she looked at the other young woman. “Thanks to you.” 

Rey grinned, the sight even better - though only marginally - than the feeling as she moved to the back portion of Jessika’s wing. “I’m here to help.”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my usual 'ship in a Star Wars fic, but I had a lot of fun learning about Jessika. And trying my hand at a wingfic, too! I hope this was what you were looking for, prompter!


End file.
